North Face of the Eiger

I have just completed my first two weeks back at work after a lengthy lay-off for a third of a year (that does sound a long time) after sustaining an injury from falling down a hole. 

I wrote, just a few days ago about the process of, and my feelings about getting back to normal and I am genuinely pleased and thrilled to be "back on the tools", as they say. 

There have been awkward moments in the last ten working days. 

One of the main obstacles is, in my still pity inspiring state of crutch supported and dragging poorly leg, to win over those whom I meet in their homes, whether they are owner occupiers and selling to my Clients or just refinancing or seeking a house valuation for other purposes, ie Bank of Mum and Dad, Tax Planning, Equity Release and many others. 

I do have pre-arranged appointments and so the householders are expecting someone to knock or sound the bell at the allotted time but yet there has been a look of shock and surprise on the doorstep when they first focus on my appearance. 

I have taken to wearing a black backpack with my essential surveying equipment in it and this, when regarded in the context of my two piece business suit, shiny city shoes and tidy hair, does give me the demeanour of a lone Jehovah’s Witness, Billy no mates Mormon or, similar to a young lad whose rounds include my own house, someone selling domestic products as part of a rehabilitation or prison rehabilitation scheme. 

It has crossed my mind to start the conversation on the front door threshold with the line “Have you come to know Jesus” but in these politically correct times that we live in this could easily backfire on me, say for example if the recipient of this question was a committed follower of a specific religion, a fearsome atheist, agnostic or heaven (insert your own divine place here) forbid an actual practicing Witness or Mormon (other faiths are available). 

I do live and work in a multi-cultural area and so would also have to be able to offer other salutations to really make my idea of a practical joke all inclusive. I should accept that it could be just too difficult. 

I do know my job title in Polish and Hungarian which has smoothed over a few potential misunderstandings in a darkened hallway or bathroom doorway upon the occasion when I have entered a property using keys assuming it to be empty or at least vacant of occupants. 

If the homeowner is anticipating my arrival at the agreed time then they will invariably be looking out anxiously for what is their perception of a Surveyor. 

My laboured progress through a gate, I have perfected a deft flick of the rubber foot on my crutch to release a standard type latch, usually emits a metallic sound that causes the curtains or blinds to twitch. It might take me a couple of minutes to negotiate a brick or paving slab pathway or raised steps to a front door and I can well imagine the occupants mistiming their own walk to the front door and hesitating about the delay between gate noise and doorbell. 

At one difficult approach, a couple of days ago, the front door flew open and a large hairy dog shot out and bounced off my poorly leg. I flinched and grimaced but this was not noticed as a youngster crashed past me in pursuit of the wayward hound. The lady of the house, his mother, shouted in an undignified manner for the calibre of that location, to put the dog on a lead and then turned to me to say “They just won’t be told, will they at that age”, I replied “ Yes, dogs are like that aren’t they”. 

She laughed and that set her nerves at rest.

For the next two hours the woman followed me closely all about the house keenly moving what she regarded as potential impedences to my ungainly walking, and in general being all fussy and ultra-considerate. 

I appreciated her concern but truthfully she did get a bit in the way and I was thwarted in my usual survey practices of easing up carpet edges, poking holes in walls with my damp meter and having a good snoop in cupboards, nooks and crannies in all of the rooms. 

At one point, after having completed the ground floor inspection, I thought she made a move as if to offer to carry me up the stairs but that would be, in equal measure, above the call of duty, downright weird and on the basis of our respective sizes, a physical impossibility.

The inspection was soon completed and I declined additional help to carry my equipment or accompany me to my car. 

A number of things have come out of my impaired mobility. 

One is to really appreciate what those of a similar temporary or more life altering disability have to put up with in terms of poor accessibility to fundamental places and things but the other,  more critically , is how the attitude of others can make such experiences a complete pleasure or a horrendous trial to be endured with courage and dignity.